


Warrior of Care

by ThatBohoFemme



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Boys In Love, Common Cold, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, Slice of Life, Soup, Taking Care of Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 02:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatBohoFemme/pseuds/ThatBohoFemme
Summary: "You don't need to take care of me." Sheamus sniffles, blowing his nose into a wad of tissue. "That's thelastthing we need- both of us having to wrestle sick." He ismiserable. Between the congestion, stuffy nose and headache, he isn't sure what's worse to deal with."I take your good days and your bad, as I hope you would take mine," Cesaro murmurs through pursed lips.





	Warrior of Care

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Alanis Morrisette song 'Guardian'

"You don't need to take care of me." Sheamus sniffles, blowing his nose into a wad of tissue. "That's the _last_ thing we need- both of us having to wrestle sick." He is _miserable_. Between the congestion, stuffy nose and headache, he isn't sure what's worse to deal with. 

"I take your good days and your bad, as I hope you would take mine," Cesaro murmurs through pursed lips. He adjusts the pillows behind Sheamus' back. "If you're sick, the least I can do is take care of you." He presses the remote into Sheamus' hand. "I'll be back in a bit with some homemade soup." 

Sheamus mindlessly flips through the channels. He has over 600 channels and as usual, there's nothing on. He leans back on the pillows, resisting the urge to groan. 

He's got the kind of cold where he feels shitty but not so shitty that sleep is his only option. He's mainly just bored and restless. 

He laughs, realizing the strains of Gloria Gaynor's _I Will Survive_ are coming through the floor from the kitchen. Cesaro always had the _worst_ taste in music. 

Another round of coughing begins. He doubles over, his chest on fire. The hacking gets louder and louder. After a few moments, it stops but now, he's _drained_. 

He falls back on the pile of his pillows, his breathing heavy and rapid. He's drenched in sweat and feels worse than before. 

He finds a nondescript Disney movie and decides it's his best bet. It's not something he would normally watch but he's bored and it's interesting. 

The bedroom door opens as Cesaro walks in, carrying a bamboo tray. The tray is laden with different things. There's a blue china bowl, a linen napkin, a spoon, a goblet of orange juice and a bud vase with a single yellow rose.

"My love- why is it so fancy?" Sheamus doesn't know _why_ he's surprised. Cesaro makes it a point to just be fancy for the fun of it. It's just who he is. 

"You're sick. It's my job to brighten your spirits," Cesaro replies, setting the tray down. Then, he makes it a point to climb into bed next to him. 

"You are going to catch this." Sheamus is tired of trying to send Cesaro away. The stubborn man refuses to listen. Finally realizing it's a losing battle, he decides to just give in. "I don't deserve you." 

"Yes, you do. You just think you don't." Cesaro tucks a lock of Sheamus' hair behind his ear. 

Sheamus stares into the bowl. "What is this? Looks amazing." 

Cesaro replies in clear, rapid German. 

"Love, think we have this conversation at least once a week. Don't understand you. Speak English." 

"Clear vegetable soup- recipe from home," Cesaro replies, watching Sheamus attack the soup with vigor. 

Sheamus finds that the soup with the funny name is exactly what he needs. The warm broth soothes his congestion and warms his scratchy throat. The vegetables are just enough to satiate without being too heavy. Yes, this was exactly what he needed to start on the road to recovery. 

"One other thing," Cesaro murmurs, moving the tray to the old footlocker at the front of the bed. He sets the goblet of juice on a nightstand. "The lovely woman who makes my muscle salve _swears_ by her cold relief oil." He digs around in his pocket before producing a roll-on stick of scented oil. "Here." He picks up one of Sheamus' hands and moves it so his wrist is up while his hand is down. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to Sheamus' wrist before swiping the roller across his pulse point. He does the same thing on the other hand. 

Before Sheamus can react, his neck, chest and throat are all covered in the vaguely spicy smelling oil. 

"I have _no_ idea what this shit is but it's cutting through my nose." 

"That's the point, Sheamy," Cesaro replies, rolling his eyes. He begins to make a wall of pillows between them. 

"Have you lost your bleeding mind?" Sheamus stares at the wall. "What the hell?" 

"I want to lay with you but know you're afraid of infecting me." Cesaro's hand snakes under the pillow wall, finds Sheamus' hand and squeezes. 

_Totally a keeper._ Sheamus thinks, returning the squeeze.

-Fin-


End file.
